


Since You've Been Gone

by vodkanime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkanime/pseuds/vodkanime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo and Kenma have broken up. Kuroo pines, while Kenma gets in with a bad crowd, stops texting Kuroo out of bitterness, and gets himself into trouble. When he shows up at Kuroo's door in Bokuto's arms, unconscious, Kuroo has more than one regret, as well as more than one shock coming to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisneedsaname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisneedsaname/gifts).



> merry christmas they're suffering

Kenma was never supposed to end up living with Kuroo. The opportunity for him to stay close was never supposed to be an option; that's why they'd broken up in the first place. That's why Kuroo broke up with him in October, because he was moving away for college and he couldn't be with Kenma like the setter needed. Sure, it was hard. It was still hard, but it had been bearable when Kuroo thought it was necessary.

Now, it was clear that he'd been wrong. The day after Christmas had brought the setter rather abruptly back into Kuroo's life, unconscious and in the arms of Bokuto. Bokuto had only offered the explanation that he'd found him. He didn't even say where.

In October, Kuroo had lost Kenma.

Bokuto had found him.

Bokuto had found him and for some reason he was now passed out on their couch, a pale skeleton of the boy Kuroo remembered. He felt a pang of something painful in his chest as Bokuto fussed over him and buried Kenma's thin frame in blankets.

"Kuroo, boil the kettle."

He started. "What?"

"Kuroo, boil the kettle? Turn on the stove and grab a mug from the cupboard?" Bokuto was looking at him like he was stupid. "Come back to Earth at least until Kenma's alright, 'kay?"

Kuroo shot him a quick glare. "I'm very firmly on Earth."

"Really? Because it looks like you've got stars in your eyes."

He chose not to respond to that, moving to turn on the tap and filling the kettle with water. After he got it boiling, he lingered in the kitchen for as long as he could., Kuroo didn't want to have to see Kenma. He didn't want to think about how happy he was to see Kenma, or how guilty he felt seeing him, or about how terrible he looked since Kuroo had left him.

Since Kuroo had abandoned him.

Eventually, Bokuto joined him, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms with a soft sigh. "Kenma doesn't do any weird drugs, does he?"

His instinctual response was negative. Kenma had asthma and a terrible phobia of cancer and, quite frankly, was a bit of a freak about germs. No way would he put that shit in his body... right? But Kuroo was so sure that he knew Kenma the way he used to. He couldn't be sure of anything. He laughed humorlessly and smiled. The curve of his lips was more than a little bitter.

"You think I would know?"

"I mean--"

"Bokuto, if you think so, you're wrong. I don't know what he's been doing. I don't know about what he's gotten up to." There was a bite to Kuroo's words that he hadn't intended, and Bokuto flinched.

"Just wondering, Kuroo."

He'd sparked Kuroo's curiosity, though, so the blocker shuffled into the living room and sat in the armchair across from the couch Kenma was on. A coffee table and a mound of blankets were the only things separating them now, and with a hard swallow, he finally looked at Kenma; really looked at him.

His face was sallow and gaunt. The circles under his eyes looked more like bruises and his breath came out shallow from between cracked lips. Two rings pierced the bottom lip, right next to each other on the left side, but they didn't do much to distract from the cold spore healing on his upper lip. A diamond stud poked out of his right nostril. Actually, Kenma had a lot of new piercings. His ears had at least five on each side, and both his eyebrows had hoops in them. The left eyebrow also had a bar through it.

Shifting in his sleep, Kenma's hair, longer than Kuroo had ever seen it, fell over his face. Kuroo's eyes followed the hair down Kenma's neck and frowned at the sight of his sharp-looking collarbones. Peeking out from the curtain of hair was something dark, and Kuroo got closer, moving to get up out of his chair. He looked at Kenma's hair, hair that he hadn't touched for months. He pushed it back

Holy shit.

A tattoo. Kenma had gotten a tattoo on his shoulder of some swirling design that Kuroo thought might be an eagle. Tucking Kenma's hair behind his ear, he noticed another, a single letter on the side of the setter's neck. An 'S.'

"Jesus," Kuroo whispered softly, "what did I do to you?"

"Kuroo." Bokuto was beside him then, pulling him ever so gently back. "Kuroo, it's not your fault."

But it was. It was entirely Kuroo's fault. He knew that. Bokuto knew it, too, even if he didn't say it. It was nobody else's fault but--

"What the fuck?"

Kuroo almost didn't recognize that voice. It was Kenma's, but weak; hoarse. The boy on the couch sat up quickly and shoved the blankets off of himself violently. He grunted with the effort it took to heave himself off the couch and started walking unsteadily towards the door of the apartment. However, he didn't make it far enough to grab the doorknob before he stumbled and felt his pockets. He obviously didn't find what he was looking for. Turning around, Kenma surveyed the room with narrowed eyes.

"Where are they?" He demanded.

Until now, both Bokuto and Kuroo had been too shocked to say anything, to do anything besides gawk. But now Kenma was glaring at them both expectantly and accusingly, and it seemed like they didn't have a choice but to speak.

Bokuto went first. "Where are what? Hey, sit down. Are you alright? You were--"

"Where are my-- Oh, never mind, I don't care." Kenma started for the door again.

"Kenma." Kenma stilled at the sound of Kuroo's voice. "Kenma, please don't go."

"Please don't go," he echoed, "isn't that what I said to you, Kuroo? Please don't go?" He laughed quietly. Then, Kenma did something strange. Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he pulled out two cigarettes. He  put one of them in his mouth and lit it, inhaling before blowing a cloud of smoke out of his nose. The other, he tucked behind his ear.

He was right. That was what he'd said to Kuroo on that October night, when he'd told Kenma he'd be leaving the setter behind when he left.

"Please don't go." Kenma said again softly."

"Hey," Bokuto interrupted their exchange, "could you maybe not smoke in here?"

"Fine."

"I just mean--"

Kenma opened the door and when he spoke, he didn't look back. "I'll just do it at home."

Then he was gone, and Kuroo was silent for a full minute. It was the shock, mostly, keeping him from even forming coherent thoughts. Kenma had been here, just for a few moments, and he'd been torn away again just as quickly. He'd been here, and he'd been... There was something not right with him.

"Bokuto," he whispered, "I never wanted this. I never wanted it to get like this." He didn't get an answer. "You said-- you said you found him? What does that mean?"

Looking over at the ace, he caught Bokuto chewing on his lower lip. His hands were fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt and he was avoiding Kuroo's eyes.

"Bokuto?"

"Yeah, I found him. Like, literally found him. On the ground, near the gas station." Bokuto grimaced. "Kuroo, I think we need to get him back here, y'know? He's..." He shrugged. "He isn't doing so hot. I'm worried."

"You're worried?" Kuroo laughed at that. "You, you're worried."

"Yeah, I am?"

"I'm-- God, Bokuto, did you see him? He's a wreck. I'm a fucking wreck just after being exposed to how much of a wreck he is, alright? Shit."

"I saw him."

Kuroo got himself a glass of water and sighed heavily. "He needs help. We need to help him."

Bokuto nodded. "I'll  get him; somehow I feel like he'd listen to me before he listened to you. I think, um." He cleared his throat. "He seemed upset. He's probably not over, uh, you know. He probably isn't over you?"

Kuroo snorted. Sure Kenma was over him. If he still loved Kuroo, even a little, he wouldn't have stopped texting back. He wouldn't have been so sour when Bokuto brought him to the apartment, he would have stayed at least until he'd finished his tea. He would have stayed at least until they finished making his tea. He wouldn't have taken up smoking, either. There were a lot of things that Kenma wouldn't have done, or would have done differently, if he hadn't moved on.

It would have been a different letter tattooed on his neck.

He would have stayed.

Whatever the setter was feeling about Kuroo, it wasn't positive. Bokuto was at least right about the fact that Kuroo wasn't the person that should talk to him.

"Sure," he said, "I'll be here."

Then Bokuto was putting on his shoes. He was putting on a coat and a determined expression, and then his hand was turning the doorknob. He turned back when Kuroo cleared his throat.

"Bokuto, what are you going to do with him once he gets here?"

The spiker tilted his head in thought before shrugging. "Talk to him, I guess, and see if he has anywhere to stay. I don't know about you, Kuroo, but I want to know what the fuck his issues are right now, and if you're going to object to him staying here, you should just save it. If I don't go now I'm gonna lose him. I'll see you soon."

After that, he was gone.

Kuroo hadn't been about to object to Kenma's presence. But he'd be lying if he tried to say he wasn't nervous; apprehensive even. Everything was tense when it came to Kenma. Everything was hard and fucked up and he couldn't say he was looking forward to having his ex-boyfriend back after what had just happened. He wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with Kenma if he wasn't over their breakup.

That would make two of them.

All he could do was wait for Bokuto to return with him. Until then, he'd try to relax and drink tea and steel himself.

Kenma was coming home.

 

-

 

Kozume Kenma, no longer complete without a cigarette between his lips and a pain somewhere in his body, had walked out of Bokuto and Kuroo's apartment with a lungful of smoke and a heart full of hate. Storming out of the parking lot of the building, he was suddenly assaulted by an unfamiliar street sign, surroundings he didn't recognize. Of course, he'd never been to their place before-- Kuroo had broken it off with Kenma before he'd moved.

Kenma took a particularly long drag on his cigarette, holding until his lungs burned. It hadn't been that long ago. He had plenty of reasons to still feel bitter.

The worst thing was that it hadn't actually been the end of the two of them; Kuroo still talked to him, texted him, sometimes visited or tried to convince Kenma to stay late after practice. And Kenma acted like he understood. Kenma acted like it was fine, and like he knew why Kuroo was leaving him and like he thought he had a good reason to go.

He kept up his façade until Kuroo was gone for real. That's when he decided that if Kuroo wanted out of his life, he'd have to stay out, and when he deleted Kuroo's number he didn't feel regret. Kenma had told himself it was normal to stay in bed and to stop eating for at least a little while. He was upset, he was allowed to let go. For a little while.

Kenma's little while wasn't over yet.

He didn't play volleyball anymore. In fact, he'd never gone back to Nekoma high school. His parents hadn't heard from him in months: approximately two months, if he counted backwards to the last time he'd seen them.

There were a lot of things Kenma didn't do anymore, and there were a lot of new things he did do. Like, he thought, blowing a sloppy ring of smoke, get needles stuck in him. Whether they were leaving holes for jewellery or lines of ink embedded under layers of his flesh, Kenma had gotten used to needles in a scary amount of time. There were other kinds of needles he was itching to try, too.

Because a month after Kuroo left him, on a late night walk in the part of town with smog so thick the stars couldn't be seen, Kenma had run into a boy who decided that he would be what Kenma needed. Kenma didn't have a say in it, but he never once complained. As long as he had someone, even if they ruined him, he would survive without Kuroo until the scars the blocker left had healed.

He didn't care if he got new ones.

He stayed in a house with all the boys he'd met and all their girlfriends and all their drugs and let them be his distraction. He smoked cigarettes and drank until he was sick and he watched action movies and pretended that he liked them, pretended that he liked all of it. He didn't. In fact, he didn't like any of it, other than the pain. he liked the pain. It took his mind off the pain he was feeling deeper inside.

At this point, Kenma was turning down the streets with the least light and the most garbage, which was probably his way way home anyway. Although, he didn't particularly care if it turned out the devices of the cold night never let him see tomorrow. Kenma's tomorrows were all the same, infinite nothings he didn't look forward to. He just wanted to be away from Kuroo's apartment. He just wanted to be away from Kuroo. As far away as he could be.

Kenma heard his name being called and turned on instinct, forgetting that there was another person he was avoiding.

"Kenma! Jesus, come here, it's cold enough to start snowing." Bokuto had him by the arm and was throwing a sweater over the setter's shoulders, earning him a glare as Kenma shoved him away.

"Yeah, so let me get to somewhere warm." He wanted to throw the sweater back, but his hands froze with his fingers hooked into the fabric when a wave of a painfully familiar scent reached his nose.

Kuroo's sweater. This was Kuroo's sweater. There wasn't any denying it. There wasn't any denying that Kenma wanted to hold onto it, either, even if that fact made him hate himself.

"Kenma, come back to the apartment with me, you look like you've been living on the streets. That's where I found you the first time, so I mean..." The ace looked at Kenma pleadingly. "Spend the night, just so we can make sure you're alright?"

He flinched ever so slightly at the casual 'we.' That meant Kuroo. Bokuto wanted him to spend the night near Kuroo, who he was trying to get away from. It was tempting, but Kenma shook his head even as his fingers held the sweater tighter around him.

"I can't."

"Why not? Please, come on, I just wanna help."

"I don't need help."

Bokuto snorted. "Bullshit, Kenma. Something is up with you and I'm not going to make you tell me what is it but I'm not going to let you pretend you're fine."

"I'd be more fine if you didn't take me back there with you." Kenma shot back.

"Is it Kuroo? Is that what this is about? Kenma--"

"Of course it's about Kuroo! Of course I don't want to see him, Bokuto! He--"

"He broke your fucking heart." Bokuto had his arm again. "I know that. He didn't mean to, you know. Kuroo thought he was doing the right thing."

"He was wrong."

"He wants to fix it."

"He can't."

Bokuto shrugged. "Fine, don't talk to Kuroo while you're staying with us. Don't look at Kuroo or acknowledge his existence if that's what you need, just come back home with me. Please."

Kenma pulled Kuroo's sweater over his head and sighed. "Just tonight."

And when he said it, he meant it, the smell of home already all around him on the form of the sweater he wore. Their footsteps crunched on the frosty leaved and Kenma kicked an empty beer can on the side of the road. It was cold and he was going to spend the night in the last place he wanted to, but he promised himself (and Bokuto) that it was just one night, just one time. That was all.

But even before he walked back through the doors, he knew that he'd lied, and that he wouldn't be able to stay a night and just leave. He wouldn't be able to make himself go if they-- if Kuroo asked him to stay.

Kuroo. Who hurt him so badly, who sent him into the steepest downwards spiral of his life, who'd been his everything just to take it away all at once, who had to leave him. The one who'd crushed him, visibly regretting it but not stopping himself from crushing them both. But obviously, Kuroo was fine now. Kuroo, who had looked at him like he was a falling star in the night sky and treated him gently and loved him. Kuroo, who'd wanted him to stay, whose sweater he was wearing and who Kenma cursed for being so stupid and hard to hate.

Who'd begged him, please don't go.

Just like Kenma had.

Kuroo, who was missing when they got back to the apartment.

"He's probably hiding in his room or something, take off your shoes and grab a blanket or something from the..." Bokuto's voice faded as he walked down the hall and knows on the door that had to be Kuroo's. There was a soft answer and Kenma heard the door open and close again after Bokuto had stepped inside. He didn't want to know what they were saying to each other.

He did what the ace said, kicking his boots off and leaving them at the door near the other pairs of shoes. there was a pile of blankets near a couch and Kenma selected a soft red one. He regretted it after recognizing it and flashing briefly back to when he once sat on Kuroo's bed, wrapped in it as it poured rain outside. It was too late to put it back, he thought, and he climbed onto the couch and sighed.

He hated that it felt like home.

He hated that it wasn't really his home.

He hated that a home wasn't something he had anymore.

Bokuto came back out a few minutes later and made Kenma tea and talked with him and Kenma answered all his questions with a straight face, without showing his hurt. He figured that Bokuto could tell anyway, but if he didn't show it, he couldn't be called on it and he could at least pretend he was fooling himself into thinking he was fine.

Then, a voice from the hall made Kenma freeze.

"Bokuto, have you seen my blue sweat-- oh."

Kuroo. Kuroo was too close to him for him to relax. Slowly, Kenma looked down at the sleeves covering his arms. Blue. Kuroo wanted the sweater that Kenma was wearing, and judging by the way he'd stopped in the middle of his sentence, he knew that Kenma had it.

Oh shit.

Oh SHIT.


	2. Chapter 2

Kuroo's voice died in his throat when he realized that the answer to his question was right in from of him, on the couch, on Kenma's torso. That was very definitely his sweater, and he had very definitely not lent it to Kenma... At least, not recently. Kuroo's blue sweater was, instead of hanging on the hook near the door, on the body of a boy sitting under his red blanket and taking up space in his apartment. The boy wasn't his, not anymore, but he fit the scene perfectly.

Bokuto spoke next. "Hey, listen, I grabbed the first sweater I found on my way to grab Kenma, I didn't realize it was that one."

He was about to say it was fine, but Kenma had already pulled it over his head and stood up, blanket falling to the floor and showing off once again how his shirt hung on his now-skeletal body. He turned to face Kuroo and the face he expected wasn't there. He'd forgotten about the piercings and the circles under his eyes and his complexion and how fucking bad he looked. His hands gripped the sweater tightly for a minute before he held it out shakily.

"I'm sorry," he heard Kenma whisper softly. "I didn't mean to take your sweater."

Kuroo moved closer, but only a little. He couldn't deal with this right now, couldn't deal with Kenma and how cautious he looked, like an abused alley cat. He drew his hand back before he could grab the garment, uttering words that together made up one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

"Forget it. I'm not wearing a sweater that smells like cigarettes."

From past Kenma, Bokuto gave him a look that was close to horror, but more shocked than anything. Kenma himself pulled the sweater against his chest and whispered a quiet "oh," even as Kuroo brushed past him to grab Bokuto's old Fukurodani sweatshirt. Kenma didn't put the sweater back on, just stood there, lips parted slightly, looking down at the floor.

He didn't know why he'd said it. He didn't know why he'd let it come out so rudely, or why he wasn't taking it back. Kuroo didn't mean it; he wanted to apologize but his mouth wouldn't form the right words.

He wanted to apologize for too many things to just say it.

Instead, he took his sweater back from Kenma and gave him Bokuto's.

"I didn't mean to." Kenma repeated, his voice wavering.

"Me neither."

Kenma looked up at him then, straight into his eyes. Kuroo hadn't looked into Kenma's eyes for so long, but his breath was taken away for all the wrong reasons this time. They were wide and watery and almost pleading, but for what Kuroo couldn't place. If eyes were truly windows into the soul, Kenma was broken. Kuroo had broken him, that's what it was. But there was something else.

The setter opened his mouth to speak and Kuroo held his breath, but Kenma turned towards Bokuto and used the hand that wasn't holding the sweatshirt to dog around in his back pocket.

"Is there some 24 hour gas station around here?"

Bokuto tilted his head to the side. "Yeah, I think?"

"Can you grab some shit for my cold sore?" Kenma took some money out of his pocket and handed it to Bokuto. "Only if it's not any trouble."

"Oh, sure." Bokuto left quickly, before Kuroo had the thought to leave the room, and he was alone with Kenma.

Kenma wasn't looking at him anymore, had curled back up on the couch with the red blanket and stopped talking. He took a cigarette out from somewhere and let it hang out of his mouth without lighting it. Kenma took out his lighter and flicked it a few times before a small flame appeared and the setter sighed, just looking at it. As Kuroo watched, his hand began to shake and his breathing grew louder, the skin of his thumb slowly blistering as he let it rest too close to the fire.

He stepped closer, a protest on the tip of his tongue, but in the next moment Kenma lit his cigarette and shoved the lighter away again. A stream of smoke was blown out of the setter's nose and he wanted to tell Kenma not to smoke but he didn't want Kenma to leave. Kuroo cleared his throat and Kenma jumped, coughing and whopping his head around like he'd forgotten the blocker was there. He probably had. He probably figure Kuroo would get out of there as soon as he could.

"What." Kenma wasn't voicing it as a question.

"Ah, I just--"

"If you try to say you're sorry, Kuroo, I'm going to beat you up."

Kuroo snorted despite the fact that it obviously wasn't an empty threat. "I'm sure you could, too."

"Is that a challenge? Do you want me to fight you?" The corner of Kenma's mouth twitched down, the opposite of a smile.

"Jesus, no. But I'm still--"

"Don't."

"I'm sorry, Kenma." Kuroo didn't care if he got punched in the face. Actually, that was probably what he deserved, so it wasn't gong to stop him from apologizing. "I'm sorry for a lot. For everything. I'm sorry for--"

"Shut up."

He ignored the venom in Kenma's words. "I'm sorry for hurting you so badly and for not properly explaining why and for being such a--"

"Kuroo, shut up right now."

"I'm sorry for the fact that it turns out it was all unnecessary and that it could have been avoided and I'm sorry that I couldn't keep being what you needed me to and--" "

Shut up!" Kenma was on his feet now, desperation lining his voice more than anger and he moved towards Kuroo. "Stop talking!"

He wasn't even sure the he didn't want Kenma to hit him. In fact, he very much wanted Kenma to hit him, so he kept going. "You have to know that I still--"

That's when Kenma shoved him, hard, successfully knocking the wind out of him and sending him stumbling backwards. Kuroo hit the corner of the wall and cringed, unable to make the pained noise trying to leave his throat. He was shoved again and the clock above the doorway leading to the hall rattled before falling to the floor, breaking. He deserved this. He was prepared to deal with this, because it's what he deserved for everything he'd done.

He wasn't prepared for that connected with his stomach.

"You don't get to play that card, Kuroo!" Kenma was yelling, his cigarette in the hand that hadn't punched him. "You don't get to say you're sorry to me because sorry isn't good enough! Sorry doesn't cut it this time. You didn't get gum in my hair or something, you fucking-- God, I can't believe you would actually--" His voice wavered and he took a long drag before sniffing. "You're really stupid."

Ash fell from the end of his cigarette and was lost in the carpet as Kenma wiped his nose. He room a shaky breath and fixed Kuroo with a flat as though daring him to speak. Kuroo was never one to chicken out of a dare.

"I am," he agreed, "but that doesn't mean I can't be sorry."

Kenma threw the end of his cigarette and it hit Kuroo in the arm, a sharp flash of heat before it fell to the floor. "It means you don't get to force it on me! What do you expect me to do? Forgive you?"

"No."

"What do you even want from me? What the fuck are you trying to accomplish by dumping your bullshit guilt onto me, Kuroo?"

"I'm--"

"Don't you fucking dare!" The statement was accompanied by another shove, and this time when Kuroo hit the wall, he let himself slide to the ground while Kenma kept shouting. "Have you not done enough?"

That was harsh. That stung. Kuroo just shook his head, all the fire in him doused as he put his head in his hands. He'd done more than enough to Kenma, and it didn't matter how sorry he was, that would never change. He really wasn't sure what else he'd expected. He swallowed a painful lump in his throat and sighed before looking up at Kenma and shaking his head again. He didn't want to cry, Kuroo couldn't let himself cry but seeing the wet tracks on Kenma's cheeks made it impossible to stop.

"Okay." Kuroo's voice was thick. "You're right, Of course you're right."

He stood up and brushed cigarette ash from his clothes. He tried in vain to hold back a sob, only causing it to come out choked and pained. His legs carried him down the hall to his bedroom and he broke before he got to the door, sobbing again and inhaling sharply. Kuroo barely made it inside the room and closed the door before sinking down and crying with everything he had. The fact that the scent of tobacco clung to the fabric of the sweater made it that much worse.

He deserved this.

 

-

 

Kenma knew it was a mistake coming back here with Bokuto, and a bigger mistake to have Bokuto leave. What had just happened was proof that he was right, and that he was stupid for ignoring his gut feeling and letting himself be convinced to stay here. He didn't need proof. He wished he didn't have the proof that he had. Kenma sort of wished that he'd been wrong, for once.

He could hear Kuroo weeping from everywhere in the house, a fact he knew because he'd gone everywhere to try and escape the sound that felt like a knife in his chest. Kenma had been the reason for it, and he regretted reacting so extremely to the older's apologies. He regretted a lot of things.

Kenma's own tears were silent, running down his face in warm, salty lines. He wiped his nose on Bokuto's sweatshirt and stopped for a moment to feel bad about it before doing it again. His breathing was shallow but he wouldn't let himself sob, choosing instead to light up another cigarette and sit back on the couch. He didn't take a blanket this time, just left the red one on the floor.

On one hand, he figured, it felt good to get his anger at Kuroo out, and directed straight at its target. It felt good to hit him and make him feel what Kenma was feeling and it felt good to scream and let go. He'd said exactly what he was thinking and he knew Kuroo had heard him. He couldn't deny what he'd done, and he couldn't deny that the blocker deserved whatever he got, whatever he was feeling as a result of their fight.

On the other hand, though...

He was too mean. He'd gone too far with his anger. He got up from the couch and walked over to the living room window, flicking his cigarette out of it. Kenma wiped his eyes and nose one more time and then shuffled over to the hallway. He stepped over the pieces of the broken clock and went down the hall towards Kuroo's sobs. His knock was quiet at first, but louder when he received no response. Vaguely, he heard Kuroo getting up before the doorknob twisted and a opened just a crack.

"I'm sorry too," Kenma blurted, "I... yeah. Um."

The door opened the rest of the way and Kuroo leaned against the doorway, eyes puffy and cheeks a blotchy red. He was still wearing his blue sweater and he dried his face with a sleeve before moving back so Kenma could enter the room.

Kuroo's room was messy. Clothes were strewn across the floor and the queen-sized bed was unmade, sheets crumpled and shoved to one side. His drawers were open and shirts overflowed out of them, as well as pairs of wrinkled pants. A shelf held books and framed pictures and beside it was a cluttered desk with a laptop and a handful of pens. A stack of papers was sitting on the desk chair. Beside the bed, a small table hosted a lamp and an alarm clock that was covered in glittery stickers. From the shelf, a photo of himself grinned, his face half-buried in Kuroo's neck as he tried to block the camera's view of him. Kuroo was smiling wide and looking right into the camera, arm slung over Kenma's shoulder.

His chest tightened. Another picture of him with a chain of daisies on his head forming a crown was flipping the camera off with a smirk. Akaashi was in the background, laying in the grass and pointing at a cloud with his head in Bokuto's lap.

And another, Kenma curled up on a couch with most of his body crushing Kuroo as he slept. Kuroo looked at the camera as though asking for help, but had his hand on Kenma's waist as if to show that he wasn't really complaining.

Back in the real world, where they weren't together except in the physical sense, Kenma sat on Kuroo's bed and picked sort out from under his fingernails while chewing on his lip. Kuroo sat on the floor a few feet in front of him. The blocker was fiddling with the hem of his sweater and wouldn't look at him, probably too scared to try and apologize again. Kenma guessed that meant he'd better go first.

"Sorry about... I'm sorry for everything, too."

Kuroo smiled wanly. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Kenma."

"Yeah I do. Can you just let me?"

"I mean, you can say sorry if you want to, it isn't like I'm going to punch you for it."

Kenma flinched. "Sor--"

"I deserved it."

"Okay." he took a breath, coughed once, and glanced back to the pictures f them on Kuroo's shelf. "I'm sorry you felt like you had to go," he whispered, "I'm sorry you didn't think you would be enough. And I'm sorry I stopped texting you and that I dropped out of high school and that I ran away and fucked myself up. It was never your responsibility to fix me."

Kuroo stared at him. "You dropped out?"

He shrugged. "I did a lot of stuff I wasn't supposed to do."

"Shit."

"In case you couldn't tell, I've-- I mean, it's been rough."

Kuroo laughed at that, covering his mouth like he knew he shouldn't. "Yeah, I could tell." He looked up at Kenma and the setter's heart sped up. "Me too. It's been... rough."

That genuinely surprised him. "Seriously?"

Kuroo didn't hide his laughter this time. "Oh my god, Kenma."

"What?" He demanded.

"You really think you mean so little to me? You think I could just leave without feeling anything?"

Did he really think... Kuroo didn't use past tense. Kuroo just implied that Kenma still meant something to him. Kuroo had just wrecked Kenma's cool so badly, and the conversation had taken a turn Kenma wasn't ready for. He couldn't afford to hope for anything from Kuroo, any reciprocation of feelings he wouldn't even admit he still had.

"Yes," he said, "that's exactly what I think, Kuroo."

With a heavy sigh, Kuroo heaved himself up and sat next to Kenma on the bed, the mattress dipping and forcing him to lean towards the heavier weight. "I'm sorry."

"Not to be mean or anything, but you kind of should be."

A snort answered Kenma's remark, and Kenma allowed himself a small smile in return. They just sat there for a while, until the silence turned awkward and both of them tried and failed to think of more things to say.

"Do you know why I did it, Kenma? Do you get why I thought we had to break up?" Kuroo asked finally.

"I guess so. I just think it could have been avoided if you talked to me about it first."

"You're right. I fucked up a lot, and I accept that. But I didn't do it on purpose. I'm not trying to excuse myself, but I want to at least give you an explanation."

He wanted to tell Kuroo that he didn't need an explanation. Or an excuse. Kenma wanted to tell Kuroo that all he needed was for things to be like they were, but he knew they never would be. He settled for resting his head on Kuroo's shoulder and sighing, breathing in the smell of his shampoo with his next inhale.

"Kuroo."

"Yes." Kuroo's voice was so soft he almost didn't hear him.

"Do you still love me?"

Kuroo's head tilted to touch his, and he took a deep breath in.

But before he could answer, a door opened from outside the room and Bokuto called out to see if anyone was home. Kenma dashed out of the room and away from the situation and quickly got himself a glass of water. Bokuto gave him his cold sore patches, commenting on how he was in the last stages of it anyway, and asked him to put the kettle on.

Bokuto asked about the broken clock. Kuroo came out of his room and said it fell when he went to change the battery, and that he would clean it up. It was late. Kenma slept on the couch, wrapped in Kuroo's red blanket.

Did Kuroo still love him?

He had a feeling he didn't want to know the answer to the question he'd asked.


	3. Chapter 3

Kuroo didn't talk to Kenma for four days. He didn't think that Kemma would even stay for four more days, and as glad as he was that he was still around, it made him difficult to avoid. Luckily, it seemed like Kenma was avoiding him, too, which made it easier not to speak to him. It wasn't awkward silence when there were in a room near each other, just a mutually recognized agreement of quiet. They didn't have a reason. At least, Kuroo was fairly sure Kenma didn't have a reason.

'Kuroo, do you still love me?'

It had been like he just knew that Kuroo hadn't really let him go, and it was terrifying. Sure, Kuroo still loved Kenma. Of course he did. That didn't mean he was ready to say it after everything.

So he didn't say anything at all, not for what felt like ages. But it was just a measly four days.

In those four days, Kuroo silently observed a change in Kenma. It wasn't that the setter looked healthier, but he seemed... better, somehow. His cold sore was healed now, and the rings under his eyes were lessened. After he showered in the mornings he put his hair up in a ponytail, which showed off not only the piercings in his ears but the tattoos on his neck. Kenma's collarbones strained against his skin still, and all his clothes were too big, but he was wearing more layers and borrowing sweaters so it was barely noticeable. He smiled sometimes, too. That was a good sign.

But still, Kuroo didn't talk to him. Not even when they smacked into each other when coming from and going to the bathroom respectively. They didn't even apologize to each other, just hastened out of each other's way. They didn't talk when they both watched television at the same time. Once, when Kuroo had been frying bacon for breakfast, he's considered asking Kenma if he wanted any, but he kept his mouth closed.

'Kuroo, do you still love me?'

And he'd said nothing. If Bokuto had arrived home just a minute later, Kuroo could have told Kenma just how much he still cared for him. He could have told him he'd never stopped. If he's had just one more minute, Kuroo could have told him.

'Kuroo, do you still love me?'

The words echoed in his head all the time, watching Kenma hang around in the couch or pour himself a himself a bowl of cereal. Did it mean that Kenma still loved Kuroo? Could that really be true? It couldn't be.

Could it?

Now, Kenma only smoked when Bokuto was out, which was often lately. It was as though he knew Kuroo wouldn't call him on it, because Kuroo wouldn't speak to him. It was as though he was daring him, again, to challenge him. It was almost as though Kenma was taunting him about it, lighting up just as Kuroo sat down to eat, after fleeting eye contact when he walked into the living room, or when Kenma walked in himself.

But Kuroo was getting a little tired of watching Kenma blow sad rings of smoke, just to have something to do. So, after four days, he walked right up to him and plucked the cigarette right out of the smaller boy's hand.

"Hey! What--"

"I never got to answer your question."

Kuroo didn't think about it. He didn't let himself rethink it or think about the consequences of what he was about to do, he just leaned over Kenma where the setter was sitting where he usually sat, wrapped in Kuroo's red blanket, and kissed him. His fingers curled to gently cup Kenma's jaw as he pressed their lips together and closed his eyes. After a tiny squawk of surprise, Kenma kissed softly back, the taste of tobacco on his mouth.

But only for a moment.

Kenma pulled away with flushed cheeks and snatched his cigarette back, inhaling deeply. He held the smoke in his lungs and coughed thickly before taking another drag anyway. He was breathing in even as he choked smoke out of his nose. Gagging, Kenma mimed frantically for water, which Kuroo fetched immediately. He watched in horror as Kenma put his cigarette out violently on his own leg while he forced the water down his throat. When he was done, he threw his cigarette butt out the window and rubbed at his throat absently, looking out at the city.

"Kuroo, don't take this the wrong way, but I think college is making you stupider instead of smarter."

"Ah, that... is a real possibility." Kenma coughed again, retching dryly. "Jesus..."

"I didn't know how else I could--"

"Words would have been cool." Kenma brought a hand up to ghost over his lips and looked out the window. "But I guess, you know what they say, actions speak louder. I can appreciate that. Does that mean--" A coughing fit cut him off.

"God, I'm really sorry." Kuroo did feel bad for springing it on him.

Kenma moved back across the room to where Kuroo was and rested his arms on the taller boy's shoulder. He licked his lips and flicked his eyes up to Kuroo's before they were directed back or the floor. "We should talk about this."

"Okay."

Kenma shook his head and moved his hands up into his hair, making Kuroo shiver slightly. "I don't want to yet," he whispered, "I just want this right now."

That was okay, too.

This time, it was Kenma who kissed Kuroo, standing on his toes to push their lips together as he made a small noise that wasn't signifying displeasure. Kuroo tugged the elastic out of Kenma's hair and ran his fingers through the still-damp locks, earning him another sound and a soft tug from the fingers in his own hair. He used his tongue to part Kenma's lips and hummed into the kiss as he felt the setter smile against him.

Kuroo missed this, and he knew they had to talk about it but if Kenma didn't care then he didn't care either because he was kissing him and he loved him and he didn't want it to stop. Kenma's hands, cold, moved down and slid up his shirt. Small fingers danced over his ribs and his breath hitched slightly, causing him to break apart from Kenma's lips briefly. Kenma's hands pulled him closer again by the space between his shoulder blades.

Then Kenma was scratching down his back and Kuroo was arching closer and nipping down the side of Kenma's neck, not quite hard enough to leave marks but hard enough to draw out tiny moans from between bitten lips. Kenma's breathing was ragged and it was setting Kuroo's nerves on fire, and before long he was back up to the setter's mouth, sliding their tongues together and not caring when their teeth clacked softly but painfully together. Quietly, breathlessly, he murmured Kenma's name and kissed down to his clavicle, biting down a little harder just to draw a gasp from Kenma.

The shorter boy pulled away slightly when Kuroo made his way back up again and touched their foreheads together, a signal to slow down, maybe even to stop. Kuroo didn't want to stop, but he did, his arms around Kenma's waist.

"Kuroo, I think we need to have a serious talk."

"A serious talk," Kuroo echoed, "I think you're probably right.

 

-

 

Kenma's leg throbbed from where he'd snuffed his cigarette, his lips pulsed warmly from Kuroo's kisses and his head spun as he stepped back from the blocker. He sat on the couch and grabbed his empty water glass, holding it out to Kuroo in a request for him to refill it. His throat was still burning. His cheeks were still burning.

This really was quite the mess he'd gotten himself into, even compared to his previous mess of drug dealers and self destruction. Of course, Kenma was still technically in that mess, as well as this one. Now he had to figure out a way to deal with both of them, and Kuroo was closer, so he'd deal with that first.

"Sorry." Kenma didn't have anything else to start with. "That was really..."

"You don't have to say sorry."

"I do, that was stupid."

He watched Kuroo head into the kitchen and fill the kettle and his glass up with water, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh. The blocker returned and sat across from Kenma with his legs folded underneath him. Kuroo didn't look like he agreed, exactly, but he also didn't look like he felt like arguing with Kenma. He just motioned for him to continue and picked dirt from under his fingernails while Kenma spoke.

"I mean," he said, "I mean, like, I don't know what I'm doing at all right now, and I didn't mean to come here and dump it on you and Bokuto because I'm not your problem. It's not your problem that I dropped out or started smoking or any of that shit, you know? I'm not your problem. I don't get to be your problem anymore no matter how much I miss you."

The last sentence came out at a near-whispering volume, and a lump started to form in Kenma's throat. He swallowed it down and inhaled deeply through his nose. He really couldn't get it right, could he? He couldn't get anything right, not when it came to himself.

Kuroo tilted his head and gave Kenma a sad look. "You were never a problem to begin with, Kenma. You've never been a problem."

"I was too much of a problem for you to deal with me and college and moving at the same time."

"No."

Kuroo got up and poured them both tea, and gave Kenma the mug with milk and an extra spoonful of sugar. Kenma sort of resented that he remembered how the setter took his tea. It made him miss everything they used to be even more, and he murmured a quiet thanks that he hoped was too soft to hold any of the emotions churning inside him.

"Kenma, I was the problem."

"What?"

Kuroo looked at him. "You know I broke up with you because I wasn't who you needed anymore now that I was moving."

He did know that. On some level, Kenma knew he hadn't done anything wrong. That made everything even worse. That meant that he'd been alright, and then he'd changed. He'd changes everything about himself and now he wasn't who anybody wanted. Sure, Kuroo had kissed him (and kissed him first), but Kenma was different even if Kuroo and his feelings were still the same.

"You were, though." Kenma said in a small voice. "Just because I'd have a smaller dosage doesn't mean I'd quit the drug."

Kuroo snorted. "I'm not a drug, Kenma, I'm you're boyfr-- Ah, no I'm not. Fuck, I'm sorry."

Putting his tea on the coffee table between them, Kenma hugged a couch cushion to his chest. You could be, he wanted to tell Kuroo, you still could be. If you still want to be, I'm still yours. Instead, he didn't say anything at all, and waited for Kuroo to speak again.

"I'm sorry for, ah, surprising you with that." There was a small pause. "How are your lungs?"

In spite of himself, Kenma smiled. "They're feeling pretty crispy, Kuroo."

"Oh my god."

"Like, you know when you fill a pie too full and all the shit on the inside bubbles over and falls and burns in the bottom of the oven?" He rapped his fist against his chest. "That's them."

"Jesus." But Kuroo was starting to smile, too, and it made Kenma wasn't to keep going.

"Those blackened bits left in the pan whenever you cook bacon? stick them together and mild them into two vague lung shapes and stick 'em in my chest." He shook his head. "I could probably breathe through bacon lungs easier."

"Kenma, stop," the blocker wheezed, trying and failing not to laugh. "Quit it, that was a serious question."

"Are you accusing me of not taking this seriously?" He pretended to be offended.

"Shh, oh god." A tear leaked from Kuroo's eye as he finally reined in his laughter. "For real, are you gonna be okay?"

He shrugged. He didn't particularly care. "Probably."

"Okay, so, we apologized to each other but we didn't do anything else. We should talk for real, just for a bit."

"Yeah."

"So," Kuroo took their empty mugs to the kitchen. "What... what's with you? What the story behind all this?" He gestured vaguely to his own face and Kenma brought his hand up to touch the stud in his nose. "Since I last saw you, you've gotten a ton of face holes and about zero of them have had time to heal properly. I guess that's my first question."

"It's a long sort of story."

"I'm listening."

So, Kenma started talking. He started telling Kuroo about his piercings, but decided he'd better give him the full back story while he was at it, and started way back when he'd run away. He told Kuroo that when he'd gotten lost in a dark part of the city and run into a dark boy, he'd followed him home like a stray dog. Kenma told Kuroo about the boy before he got to anything else.

"That's one crazy rebound." Kuroo chewed at his nails in the armchair and Kenma stuck out his tongue.

"Shut up, Kuroo."

Kenma told Kuroo about where he was living, and how he was living, and how he hadn't talked to his mother since he'd been gone. He told Kuroo about the boy who'd done all his piercings for him, for free, drunk, and how Kenma didn't ask him where he got the jewellery. He didn't want to know where anything they got came from. He told him about how he sat through the pain and don't make a single sound.

"When did you start to smoke?" Kuroo asked him softly. "Why did you--"

"The first night I met him, he offered me one. I just took it. I just sort of... I just sort of became a smoker."

"Huh."

Kenma grimaced. "It's really disgusting."

Kenma went on to tell him about how he hadn't been eating, either because drug deals the boys had made had gone bad and they didn't have the cash, or because he didn't feel like it. He told Kuroo about how sometimes he just wanted to hurt, sometimes he wanted to feel miserable on the outside, too. Kuroo's lips formed a line and a crease appeared between his eyebrows, but he didn't interrupt when Kenma told him how that boy who saved him in the night had ruined him. How he'd thought he'd found someone to protect him but landed himself a million bruises in the most painful spots. He told Kuroo about how he'd gotten scared. He told him how he'd almost wanted that, an extra level of misery, and how it kept him going home.

Finally, Kenma came to the night he arrived in Bokuto's arms. He told Kuroo about how exhaustion and malnutrition had finally won, and how when he fainted he thought he was finally dying. When he was finished, Kuroo was crying.

"Kenma, I'm so sorry."

"Shush, I'm here now, right?"

"Yeah, and you're doing awful, Kenma." Kuroo sniffed and Kenma felt his own eyes tear up.

"I'm okay. It's okay."

The taller boy shook his head. "You're not. You're not okay and I could have--"

"No, hey, no. Kuroo..."

Kenma got up and moved over to Kuroo. There wasn't enough room for two people on the armchair he was sitting in, so he carefully climbed into Kuroo's lap and wrapped his arms around the blocker's neck. Kenma buried his face in Kuroo's shoulder and Kuroo hugged him tightly, apologizing again and again and letting his tears fall onto Kenma's shirt.

"To think I loved you all this time and I ended up ruining your life like that."

Kenma nestled his face deeper into Kuroo and sniffed. "Take me back?" It sounded not enough like a question and too much like he was begging. His heartbeat quickened and he held his breath until he couldn't. Granted, that wasn't very long anymore.

After another pause, Kuroo gave him one more squeeze before pulling back. "Of course," he whispered. "Always, Kenma."

The sob that escaped him was more of a laugh. Kuroo nuzzled their noses together and Kenma kissed him once, lightly. He coughed and the moment was ruined, so he got off of Kuroo and got himself more water. The blocker followed him and wrapped his arms around Kenma's shoulders.

"I love you."

"Yeah." Kenma said softly. "You too."


	4. Chapter 4

Both of them were sitting on the couch, new mugs of tea in their hands warming them as they fed off each other's body heat. Kenma braided a small chunk of his hair and huffed when he got it wrong and tangled the strands into a frizzy knot. Kuroo reached out to help him out but the setter wouldn't sit still, pulling back with a scowl whenever he pulled too hard. Eventually, Kenma laid with his head in Kuroo's lap, grumbling while he let him work out the tangle. When Kuroo was done, he kept sliding his fingers through Kenma's silky hair and sighed.

"Are you done?"

"No," he told Kenma with a laugh, "it's looking worse than ever, to be honest."

Kenma felt where the knot had been and gently elbowed Kuroo before letting him continue playing with his hair. "Liar."

"Hey!"

"It's true." The setter's voice was almost lyrical, taking on a playful tone. "You could have just told me you wanted to fuck around with my hair for a bit, and then I wouldn't be worried about having a tiny bird's nest in my hair while you do it."

Kuroo hummed in response. "Sure, okay. Whatever you say."

The sound of the door being unlocked brought Kenma back up to a sitting position, hair falling over his face for just a moment before he brushed it away. "Doesn't Bokuto have another class? He was saying something about-- Huh. Hey, Bokuto. You're home early."

The spiker grinned at both of them. "Teacher's sick. If you ask me, it serves him right for making us go to class in the middle of Winter. Jesus."

"Mmm, sounds like a late Christmas present." Kuroo remarked.

"Sure, for everyone but him."

Kenma yawned and left the room to use the bathroom and Bokuto was on him immediately. "How is he? How are you? How's--" "

Fine, Bokuto. Everything is fine."

More than fine. Everything was a lot more than fine. He had Kenma back and if he could help him get back to his old healthy self, that would be enough for Kuroo. He smiled to himself and sighed. To would be okay, even if it wasn't perfect yet. The fact that they were on their way to okay was a huge relief, and Kuroo was content with that for now.

"You're hiding something." Apparently, Bokuto caught the look on Kuroo's face. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up," he said in a teasing tone, "Whatever makes you think something would be up?"

Bokuto walked over and sat heavily on Kuroo's lap, resting an elbow on one of the blocker's shoulders. He squinted at Kuroo and Kuroo smiled back innocently, earning himself a scowl and a huff. He raises his eyebrows and shrugged, telling Bokuto he wasn't sure what he wanted from him.

"Kuroo! Don't be an idiot! I know there's something in that tiny brain that I don't know yet and it's gonna kill me! You hear that, huh? If you don't spill the beans, I'll die, right here."

Kuroo shook his head sadly. "I've got some bad news for you, then. I'm afraid you're gonna die."

A smack to his shoulder made him wince, though it wasn't entirely unexpected. "Ha!" Bokuto's voice was triumphant. "So you admit you're keeping something from me."

"No."

Bokuto groaned and got off of Kuroo's legs. Kenma came back from the bathroom and froze when the ace turned his scrutiny on him.

"What?" The setter brought a hand up to his lip. "Is there something on my face? Bokuto, what."

"Kuroo has a secret."

Kenma snorted. "Is that so?"

"This isn't funny!" Bokuto put his head in his hands and muffled a yell. "This is so not cool. Do you know what it is, Kenma? You've got that look like you know what it is."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Kenma snickered and his eyes flicked to Kuroo for a moment.

"You guys are both so bad at pretending you have nothing to hide! Ugh!"

Kenma walked over to the couch and sat next to Kuroo, the very action of getting closer to him making Bokuto squint harder than he'd probably ever squinted in his life. He still couldn't figure it out, though, and Kuroo caught Kenma's gaze and winked.

"Jeez, Kenma, do you know what I could possibly have been keeping from Bokuto? There isn't anything I can think of at this point in time."

Kenma grinned at him and his heart did a funny skipping thing. It was crazy how easily Kenma was just back in his life, and how normal and right it felt. The setter bit the side of his lip without the rings and visibly made a decision, swinging his legs into Kuroo's lap and humming.

"I'm not sure, Kuroo. Anything new happen that you might have forgotten to mention?"

From beside them, Bokuto could tell something was different, but he hadn't gotten it out yet. His face was red and his arms were crossed and his response to Kuroo's grin was to stick out his tongue. He knew they were fucking with him, obviously, and the fact that they were doing it together should have been a hint.

"No, not that I can recall."

"Oh, I think there might be something." Kenma tilted his head to the side and smiled softly.

"You think so?"

"Is it me?" Kenma moved to straddle Kuroo's lap, false look of intense contemplation still on his face. "Am I your secret, Kuroo?"

"Oh my _fuck_."

"Shush, Bokuto, we're trying to figure something out over here," Kuroo scolded him, "Your shouting is going to interrupt my train of thought."

Kenma kept talking like Bokuto wasn't even there. "But I'm not a secret, am I?" He leaned closer and brushed their noses together.

Fukurodani's former captain took this moment to shove his hand between their faces, a bit of a rude gesture, if you were to ask Kuroo. Bokuto lifted Kenma bodily from the couch and set him down beside Kuroo before sitting on the coffee table and opening his mouth to speak. He closed it. He opened it again. He changed his mind. He started to talk again.

"Really?"

Kuroo grinned at him. "Uh, yeah, I guess."

Bokuto shook his head, but he was smiling. "You guys sure didn't waste any fucking time getting back together."

"Technically, we wasted a ton," Kenma whispered. "It's cool, though. I think we're cool."

"I'd say this would mean Kuroo will finally shut up about you, but he probably won't." Bokuto sighed and shook his head again. "Still, I'm... I'm glad some of your shit got sorted. Hold on a sec." He took out his phone and dialled a number. "Hey! No, I didn't leave my pants at your place this time. At least, I don't think so. Anyway, guess what?"

"Bokuto..." Kuroo held out his hand for the phone. "Who is that?"

"Just Akaashi. Hey Akaashi, Kuroo wants to talk to you before I tell you what I called you to tell you. I know, but-- Speakerphone? Which button is that?"

Kenma snatched the phone and hit the speaker button. "Hi, Akaashi. Everyone an hear you now."

"Are you Bokuto-san's surprise?" Akaashi sounded tired. "Because, I hate to be a downer, but I already knew you were staying with them."

"That wouldn't be much of a surprise," Kuroo agreed.

"Okay, so if it isn't that Kenma's back, what--"

Bokuto interrupted excitedly. "Keiji, he's not just back, he's back with Kuroo now!"

There was a pause and a faint sigh. "That... surprises you? Oh, and congratulations on fixing the biggest mistake of both your lives."

"It's not totally fixed yet, but..." Kenma trailed off and Akaashi make a sound of acknowledgement. "It's a start, you know? It's not gonna be, like, it's not gonna be like it was right away but..."

"I get it. Don't rush into it, yeah? Let yourselves relax and get used to each other again and all that."

Bokuto rolled his eyes. "This was supposed to be an exciting and upbeat phone call, you guys."

"I've gotta go to class now, actually," Akaashi told them all. "I'll catch up with you later." 

Everyone said goodbye and Bokuto announced that he was taking a nap and that nobody better disturb him because he would be mad at them for ruining his vacation from class. When he disappeared, Kuroo felt Kenma lean into him again and took his hand. He could go for a nap, too, but before he nodded off Kenma sat up again.

"You're too warm, Kuroo. I'm wearing too many sweaters for this."

"Take one off, then."

Kenma elbowed him. "I am."

The setter pulled the sweatshirt he wore overtop of his other sweater, one Kuroo recognized as his own, but stopped before it was all the way over his head.

"Kenma?"

"It's stuck on one of my earrings." Kenma whined. "Kuroo, it's caught on my ear."

Kuroo laughed. "Okay, hold still. Pull your arms into the sweatshirt and see if you can fix it from in there. I'll hold up by the sleeves so that the weight of it doesn't pull down on your ears."

"I can't see anything." "You're in a sweatshirt, Kenma. Your face is inside the sweatshirt."

"So get me out!"

Kuroo eventually got him out of the sweater, with a little bit of bleeding and a torn thread and a lot of apologies. Kenma didn't seem like he cared about anything but the fact that he was free, but he didn't lean back into Kuroo in case he got blood on him. Instead, Kuroo locked their fingers together and lightly rested his temple on Kenma's shoulder. He felt like he could fall asleep, too, and he did, but when he started to snore he was poked violently awake.

"Mmph, what?"

"I'm small and I can't hold you up when you fall asleep on me like that, Kuroo." Kenma poked him again and he stood up. "If you want to take a nap, go to your actual room and do it in your actual bed."

He nuzzled his face into Kenma's neck and took both of his hands. "Will you be joining me?"

"Is that an invitation?"

"You bet your ass it's an invitation. Come on, you've got to be at least as tired as I am."

Kenma smiled. "You bet your ass I am."

 

-

 

"You want the side with the clock?"

Kuroo was gesturing towards the bed. There he was again, remembering all the stupid little details and Kenma's tiny preferences. Of course he wanted the side of the bed near the clock. Of course Kuroo would offer it to him even though the clock was on the left side and that's the side Kuroo always slept on.

"Don't you want that side?"

Kuroo shrugged. "Not as bad as you do."

Kenma thought that was fair enough, and crawled under the blankets. Yeah, this was definitely the side of the bed Kuroo slept on. The pillow smelled like the gel he used to keep his hair spiked and the sheet smelled like his deodorant, calming him. Kuroo pulled his shirt over his head before turning down the blankets on the right side and scooting in next to the setter. Kenma instinctually curled closer to him, but stopped himself before he could latch on fully.

He was hot. He was still wearing a sweater over his shirt, and now he was under a heavy comforter with a warm body next it him. It was too hot. If he was too warm, he would start sweating, which would be gross, but he didn't feel like taking off Kuroo's hoodie, either. Kenma, it seemed, had a difficult decision to make.

Option number one: Kenma could take the sweater off. While he would be a bit cooler, his arms would be uncovered and Kuroo might take the sweater back from him before he put it back on. Kenma liked that sweater. He was glad he'd stolen it.

Option number two: Deal with it. This was the least preferable option, in which Kenma got sweaty and uncomfortable and probably terribly embarrassed and wouldn't end up sleeping one wink. It did mean he wouldn't have to move, but was that worth it? He decided it most definitely was not.

Option number three: Leaving the sweater on, he could remove another article of clothing in order to cool off. That brought up anywhere question, however. Was it okay if he took his pants off? Would that be... appropriate wasn't he right word, but Kenma couldn't think of anything else that fit. He didn't think it would be a problem, but--

"Kenma, you're tensing up."

"M'just warm," he answered, "I can't sleep when I'm too warm."

Kuroo plucked at the fabric of his sweater. "Take this off, then." Kenma made a face. "Fine, these then." A finger tapped the leg of his pants.

He kicked them off.

Feeling significantly better, Kenma moved closer to Kuroo again, hooking his legs around one of the blocker's and throwing his arm across his stomach. Kenma's head rested on Kuroo's shoulder, and a heavy arm wrapped around him like an extra blanket. That would have been too much heat a few moments ago. Kenma was happy he could be this close and this comfortable.

Kenma was happy, and he fell asleep that way.

He was a lot less happy when he woke up. This was mostly because he awoke to a loud pounding on the door, and by Kuroo's violent wakening. The noise didn't stop, and after he exchanged a look with Kuroo, Kenma got out of bed to see what Bokuto wanted. He didn't make it to the door, though, because it opened and the ace came in without being invited. He was wearing different clothes than he had been, and his hair was damp and his socks were clean, which was rare. Bokuto looked very surprised to see him.

"Oh, so you were awake and ignoring me?" He accused. He didn't seem truly angry, though.

Kenma yawned and punched Bokuto in the shoulder. "You woke us up, Bokuto. I was just on my way to open the door for you so you would stop knocking. You beat me to it, though. What time is it, anyway?"

"It's tomorrow, you guys were conked out all night."

Kuroo got out of bed and fished around for a clean shirt. "So, if you didn't bother waking us up before, why bother us now? Are we out of something? Did you eat all the cereal?" He added a soft "again," and Kenma snickered.

"Well..." Bokuto shrugged. "I was bored."

"Why didn't you go big Akaashi? He's the one that committed to dealing with that."

"Kuroo, you made a bigger commitment than Akaashi, seeing as you ended up living with him," Kenma interjected.

"Yeah, Kuroo. And besides, Akaashi is probably asleep, and I'd hate hate to disturb him."

Kuroo rolled his eyes before pulling a shirt over his head and yawning widely. He scratched the back of his neck. "You didn't have a problem disturbing us."

"Akaashi actually needs the sleep he gets," Bokuto shot back, "I think twenty hours is plenty for you two, okay? I can only watch so much news TV, especially knowing I could easily have some company."

While they bickered, Kenma picked his pants up off the floor and pulled them back on, catching Kuroo's yawn and covering his mouth. He climbed over the bed to take a random shirt from Kuroo's drawer, grabbed Kuroo's deodorant from the top of the bureau, and changed. He also took a blanket from the floor that he hadn't noticed the day before and slung it across his shoulders before moving beside Kuroo. Kenma leaned his head against the blocker's shoulder, listening to him talk to Bokuto.

"You know what I'm doing as soon as I take a shower? Watching the news. I'll be doing exactly what you don't want to do."

"Why do you have to be so bitter?" Bokuto was whining, blocking the door. "You've had more than enough rest, stop being grumpy."

"I'd better have coffee waiting for me when I get out of the bathroom." Kuroo pushed past Bokuto, not violently but not politely, either. He wasn't a morning person, no matter how many hours he stayed in bed. Hell, he wasn't a person who took getting up well, no matter what time of day it was. Kenma figured that Bokuto had to know that. The ace sure was bored, risking Kuroo's sour mood.

"Kenma," he said quickly, "How does Kuroo take his coffee?"

Kenma shrugged. "Why don't you tell me? You're his roommate, you should have that information by now."

"I know you know, Kenma, and I'm not gonna deal with angry Kuroo just because you won't spill." Bokuto crossed his arms. "Come on."

He yawned again. "Just milk, no sugar. Let me by, please."

Bokuto stepped aside, jogging into the kitchen to make the coffee, and Kenma moved into the hall. He cracked his neck before heading to the living room where Bokuto had left the television on. A commercial break ended and it was back to the news, a woman in a blue suit outlining the weather for the next week or so. It looked like a lot of rain. Kenma was glad he could stay inside for that.

"Hey, Bokuto, is there enough water in the kettle for me to make a mug of tea?"

"Sure," Bokuto called back. "Fill it up again when your done, though, okay? I want some coffee, too."

Kenma shrugged, plopping down on the couch. "You can go first."

But the ace insisted that seeing as he'd been up for ages already and he'd already had some coffee, Kenma should help himself to the water before he did. In fact, he seemed ready to fight about it, so Kenma got up with a sigh and took a mug down from the cupboard. He took the milk from the fridge and poured some into Kuroo's coffee, then his own tea. Kuroo came into the kitchen right after he finished stirring it in, and Kenma handed it to him before he could ask about it. He looked surprised, but Kenma just smiled and grabbed the sugar for his tea.

"Thanks." Kuroo took a sip of coffee and hummed softly.

Kenma shrugged and out the milk away. "Can't have you murdering Bokuto."

"I was never going to, I swear!"

"Whatever you say, Kuroo."

The three of them clustered in the living room, Kuroo sitting in the armchair with Kenma in his lap and Bokuto spread out across the length of the couch. Kuroo didn't actually want to watch the news, he said, he'd just been being difficult before. They found a crime drama rerun that was better suited to his tasted, and Kenma scoffed at it.

"This isn't any good."

"I don't care, I wanna watch it."

"Sure. I'm going to put my mug by the sink, are either of you done with your coffee?"

Neither of them were, so Kenma got up and went into the kitchen by himself. He still had two mugs in his two hands when there was a knock at the door, making him incapable of answering. Kenma set the mugs down but Bokuto had already jumped up, turning off the screen (to Kuroo's woe) and turning the knob.

"Hey there," a smooth voice drifted through the apartment and Kenma felt his heart beat quicken. "We're missing a cat, have you seen him?"

No. He wasn't here. Kenma was mistaken and that voice definitely didn't belong to who he thought it did. Turning around from the sink slowly, he looked back at Kuroo, sitting in the armchair that Kenma couldn't return to without passing by the door. Kenma really, really didn't want to move past the door. Kuroo was looking at him, and stood when he caught the look on Kenma's face. Kenma wasn't sure what he looked like, but he couldn't breathe and his hands were shaking and if his eyes were as big and Kuroo's were in response, he looked terrified.

He felt terrified, so he guessed that was fair enough.

Bokuto was still dealing with the door. "No, haven't seen any stray cats this season, sorry. I could keep a lookout and call you if you--"

"Let me make myself clearer." The voice was hard and commanding, like Kenma always knew it to be. "You have something I want, and I've been looking for him for ages now. Can we come in?"

"Um--"

"Thanks. We'll be out of your hair before you know it." 

This couldn't be happening. Please, please, please let it not be happening. Kenma backed into the counter and shook his head at Kuroo, who didn't look like he understood.

A profile he knew appeared next to Bokuto.

He made eye contact with Kenma.

No. This really couldn't be happening. This couldn't be reality. Kenma didn't think he could it handle it if this was reality.


	5. Chapter 5

Kuroo watched three boys push past Bokuto and waltz into their apartment like they owned the place, the one in front looking around and sniffing. He was taller than Kenma was, the boy who appeared to be the leader of the trio, but he wasn't as tall as either Kuroo or Bokuto. None of them were. The one who had spoken when the ace opened to door was the one at the front of the three, adding to the air of superiority that surrounding him. The fact that he'd just walked into their home like it was nothing also helped.

He looked like he was Kenma's age, approximately. Then again, Kuroo and Bokuto were approximately Kenma's age, so that wasn't much to go on. His eyes were a dull brown, the same as his hair, save for the faded red streaks through it. His nose was pierced in three different spots, two in a nostril and a staple through his septum. Silver snake bite studs glinted at the corners of his mouth, and a cigarette stuck out between his lips.

Kenma, looking as small as when Bokuto had carried him in, had his back pressed against the edge of the counter. His eyes were wide and fixed on the boys, who were in turn looking at him. Kuroo didn't think the setter was breathing. He almost wanted to go and check him for a pulse.

A small head tilt was the only warning before the leader opened his mouth, twisting out his cigarette on the sleeve of his jacket. "You didn't think you could hide from me forever, did you Kozume-kun?"

Kenma's voice was the only part of him that wasn't shaking when he answered. "What makes you think I'd hide from you?" His tone was light and casual. "Last time I checked, I was allowed to go out by myself."

"Yeah, if you came home after your fun. Seems as though you're pretty comfortable here, though. That isn't your shirt. In fact, I'd be willing to bet you're not wearing anything that belongs to you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were planning on staying."

"Kanuha," Kenma said softly, "I was just going to stay a little while longer, seriously."

There was silence as the boy, Kanuha, considered what Kenma was saying, shifting his weight between his feet. Kuroo looked to Bokuto, whose mouth was open in shock and who hadn't even closed the door yet. The ace looked back at Kuroo with an expression of bewilderment tinged with anger. He looked like he wanted to step in, but like he didn't want to step on a barrier. Kuroo knew how he felt. Kuroo felt the same way, conflicted while he watched Kenma try and sort this out. He wanted to intervene, he really did, but if this was the same boy Kenma has told him about, he should stay out of it as long as he could.

"Kozume, I heard you got here after a nasty blackout downtown. Of course, when I heard, I assumed I would see you the next day, or maybe the next. Imagine how worried I was when you didn't turn up even a week later." Kanuha shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Are you sure you weren't avoiding me?"

"Of course not." Kenma's laugh came out harsh.

"You'd better hope your word is good for something, kitten, because all evidence is pointing straight at me being right. And avoided." The last few words were dripping with poison and Kuroo felt the tiniest of shivers run through him.

"I just didn't want to come back until I was--"

"Until you were over your little faint? You don't look too bad now. Look at you, all rosy and well-fed. Why, I bet you sleep on a fancy mattress every night, now." Kanuha sneered. "It almost looks like you're alienating yourself from us, Kozume-kun. Check out that outfit. And what are you doing with your hair? Take that elastic out. Now."

Kenma took out his elastic.

"Come."

With a snap of Kanuha's fingers, Kenma pushed himself off the counter and walked obediently over to him. His elastic was around his wrist, and he listened to Kanuha without a single word of protest. Without even a word of agreement. He was just silently complacent. That wasn't a good sign. None of this was a good sign and these strange boys had to leave and if that creep tried anything, Kuroo would--

Well, he didn't know what, but he'd be forced to do something.

He was thinking about what exactly he could do when Kanuha put a hand behind Kenma's head and jerked the setter's head towards him, kissing him hard enough that Kuroo heard their teeth clack. He heard Kenma's whine turn into a smothered choking as he tried to pull away, but the hand cupping his skull prevented him from moving. Kanuha's other hand caught Kenma's wrist and tugged him even closer before letting him go.

When the setter pulled back, he was bleeding. Red dripped down one side of his chin from a ripped piercing in his lip, and coated his teeth as he stood there, breathing heavily. The other boy licked Kenma's blood from his own lower lip and smiled.

"Hey!" Bokuto barked from the door, over his surprise and snapping into the current moment. "Don't touch him."

Kuroo moved then, brushing past the shorter intruders and tilting Kenma's chin up gently with his index finger. He wiped the blood from the setter's chin with his sleeve and ran a thumb soothingly across his cheek.

"You alright? Are you okay? Kenma--"

"I'll touch him if I feel like, seeing as he's mine." Kanuha was talking back to Bokuto, reaching out as though proving a point.

Kuroo smacked his hand away. "Kenma doesn't belong to anyone."

Kanuha fixed him with a glare and held it for all of two seconds before it dropped off his face, replaced by a look of confusion. "Aren't you..."

Kenma had taken Kuroo's hand by now, and stepped forward. "Yeah, he is. Kuroo, meet Kanuha. Kanuha, this is Kuroo. Please leave, if you haven't got anything else to say."

"Yeah," Bokuto growled. "Please leave."

Kanuha looked right at Kuroo, then. "You can have your boy toy back if you really want. He's only good for one thing, anyway." He laughed, running his fingers up Kenma's thigh before moving away. "We'll go."

For one half of a second, the boys looked like they wanted a fight, but they realized that they wouldn't win it. Kuroo and Bokuto were too big for them to best, especially when driven by the need to protect their third roommate, and the boys knew it. With a jerk of Kanuha's head, they departed through the door, allowing Bokuto to close it. He locked it once it was closed, chewing on his lip before looking back at Kuroo and Kenma.

Kenma's lip was still bleeding.

The setter scuffed his socked foot across the carpet, wiping blood onto his wrist and wincing, Kuroo winced, too, swiftly fetching a paper towel and running it quickly under the kitchen tap so that it was damp. He pressed it lightly to the side of Kenma's face until the smaller boy reached up and held it there himself. He got another paper towel and cleaned the drying blood from Kenma's neck and arm and chin before kissing him gently on the side of the head and throwing the dirty napkin away.

Bokuto was still leaning against the door that he'd closed. He made eye contact with Kuroo overtop of Kenma's head and shot him a concerned look. The blocker inclined his head slightly in agreement, but they stayed still and silent.

They stayed this way until Kenma's pale towel stopped coming away from his mouth with new blotches of scarlet. The silence stayed until Kenma broke it, starting with a sigh and a step closer to Kuroo.

"I'm really sorry about him."

"Dude." Bokuto shook his head. "I'm sorry we didn't get him out of here sooner. No, I'm actually sorry I let him in in the first place, Kenma. It's on me."

"It's still or your responsibility to--"

"It doesn't have to be our responsibility, we'll still help you." Kuroo told him, putting an arm over his shoulders. Kenma leaned into him, letting him continue. "It's not our responsibility to love you, but we do, and we'll deal with whatever shit comes with that. Not because we have to, but because we care."

"I don't get it." Kenma's voice was small.

Bokuto snorted. "That's because you've been hanging around with that creep who thinks you're apparently only worth as much as you put out."

"He's--"

"He's wrong."

Kenma shrugged and wrapped both his arms around Kuroo. "I never thought he'd show up here."

"How many times are we going to have to tell you that we aren't pissed about it?"

Kuroo felt the hum from Kenma in his chest. "Maybe a few more?"

If that's what it took. If that's what it took for Kenma to feel better, Kuroo would do it. He trusted that Bokuto would, too. Kuroo disentangled himself to get Kenma some water and Bokuto turned the television back on. Reality TV was there to cheer them up, and they watched American women cry over choosing wedding dresses for what seemed like hours (it was, since they'd caught a marathon). Kuroo and Kenma took the couch. Bokuto even let Kenma smoke a cigarette to calm down. Just one.

Kenma was home, for real, and it looked like he'd be sticking around.

Finally.

-

Kozume Kenma was very seriously considering taking the bar out of his left eyebrow. And, actually, probably the ring in his left eyebrow as well. It wasn't that he hated them, or anything; they made him look tougher than he really was, and that could be useful. But he didn't need them for that anymore, especially with all the other piercings he'd gotten. He was tired of catching them on things, plain and simple. He was tired of the upkeep more than the actual presence of the piercings themselves. It was hard work and Kenma was exhausted.

He'd been thinking about it for quite a while, but if he'd needed any more incentive, he'd gotten it when the rings in his lip had started him bleeding, which had been inconvenient in a number of ways. For starters, it worried everyone, something Kenma tried to avoid at any cost. Kuroo was still glancing at him every few seconds to make sure the blood didn't start dripping from his chin again.

It had also hurt, and that was something it was still doing. With a sigh, he scrunched up his nose and took both the rings out, getting up to drop them on the kitchen counter.

"Kenma, what are you doing?"

He looked back at Bokuto. "I'm gonna let a couple of my face holes heal over, I think."

"Yeah?" Kuroo cocked his head to the side. "I think some of them are kinda hot."

"Yeah, okay, but they're a major pain in the ass sometimes. I mean, I guess I could keep a few if you really wanted me to, like... Choose your favourites?"

His boyfriend laughed and shook his head, joining him in the kitchen and kissing his forehead before opening the fridge. "It was a joke, it's your face. Do what you want with it. I'm not gonna tell you what to do with your life."

"Okay."

"Keep the nose one, though."

"Okay," he said again, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile, "whatever you say."

He took out the eyebrow jewellery on the left side. He took out one of the rings on the top of one of his ears that kept getting infected. He put them in a shot glass and washed them off, drying them with a paper towel before shoving the jewellery in his pocket.

So, he was living here now, with two of the Tokyo captains in their small apartment. He was living here and not with Kanuha and the rest of the boys and they were leaving him alone finally and he wasn't quite sure what to with himself. He wasn't complaining, of course. That didn't mean it was a perfect situation, or that it wasn't a shocking change.

Boys used to go missing all the time. Kanuha would go missing for a few days himself if they didn't return, and when he got back, the missing boys usually tailed behind him. Sometimes, he came back alone, save for the small posse he always had with him, and he'd announce to the house that they were to forget all about whoever was gone. They were gone forever, now. Kenma sometimes wondered if they died when they went missing, if Kanuha went out to either find their bodies or bring them home. He used to wonder if they just got lost in the maze of Tokyo alleyways.

Now, Kenma got to be one of the boys that they all forgot. He hoped the rest of them had found better lives like him, that Kanuha hadn't been able to take them away from the freedom they'd found. It was a weird adjustment, but it was better. It was absolutely better than where he'd been before.

A quiet laugh pulled his attention to the living room, where Kuroo had gone after warning up some container of leftover... leftover something. He wasn't really sure he even wanted to know.

"Dude, what?" Bokuto was there too, looking at the blocker incredulously, one eyebrow raised. "What's so funny?"

Kuroo shook his head. "Hey, Kenma. That kid who was just here-- Kanuha."

"What about him?"

"He said you were only good for one thing... He was talking about sex, wasn't he. He was saying that you were only good for sex."

"Yeah, probably."

Kuroo snorted, and Bokuto scoffed.

"That's what you were laughing at? Are you serious?"

"Shut up, Bokuto, you're gonna make me lose my train of thought. I'm not finished."

"I'd be surprised if you had a proper thought train at all."

Kuroo shot him a quick look before looking back at Kenma, who was shuffling into the living room himself.

"So, in saying that you're only good for that one thing, he was insinuating that you guys had a lot of it. Sex, I mean. Probably good sex, if he knows what he's talking about. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"Kuroo, what the fuck does that have to do with anything?" Bokuto was shaking his head.

"Shh."

Kuroo wasn't wrong, and Kenma felt a warm blush creeping up his neck and the burning in his ears that told him they were turning red. He'd done whatever Kanuha wanted him to, and that... included a lot of sex. He didn't know if he'd necessarily call it good, though..

He opened his mouth, closed it, and smirked, giving Kuroo a lazy and half-lidded look. "Not the best I've ever had, but it was something."

The setter wasn't the one blushing this time.

Kenma sat back onto the couch next to Kuroo and yawned. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

"That's a good question, Kenma, I think Kuroo is being pretty questionable right now."

Kuroo grinned. "I was just thinking, since you're good for so much more than that, like, how good must you have gotten for that to be the only thing sticking out in his mind?"

"Kuroo!"

He held up his hands in a surrender, but kept talking. "No, best with me, hold on. I just mean that the first thing I think about when someone asks me about your good qualities is how your nose scrunches up when you laugh real hard."

"It does not."

"Sure it does. Or like, how you know where to put your head so that my shoulder doesn't fall asleep when you're lying on me, or how you make me a mug of whatever you make yourself and you always remember how I want it."

"Kuroo..."

"Like, it's true that you give the best head I've ever gotten but what blows me away the most is when you're tired and you lean on my shoulder and it feels like there's a helium balloon right here--" He touched his diaphragm absently. "-- like it's all warm and it makes me smile every time even though you don't realize you're doing it."

"Kuroo."

"Like..."

"You're being mushy."

Bokuto laughed. "You guys are gross, you know that? Grossly in love. Save it for when I'm out, Jesus."

"I can't help it!" Kuroo's tone gave away that he very much could help it if he wanted.

"Okay, then I'm gone. There's never been a more convenient nap time."

He left. Kuroo turned back to Kenma and shrugged. "I'm serious."

"I know you are." He laid across Kuroo's lap and sighed. "And... yeah. I get what you're saying, and, yeah. If I was going to list off why I love you, reason number one wouldn't be the stupid heart shapes you leave your hickeys in."

"Oho? What would reason number one be?"

After a pause, Kenma smiled softly. "You make me feel like I have exclamation points inside my heart whenever I'm close to you."

Kuroo really laughed then, and Kenma smacked him on the chest. "It's not any more lame than what you said!"

"It's not lame."

"It is."

"It's not."

"It is."

"... It's not."

Kenma decided at that point that he would give up arguing. He exhaled through his nose and leaned up to kiss Kuroo quickly, grabbing a cushion to put behind his head when he lay back down.

Kenma was never supposed to end up living with Kuroo. The opportunity for him to stay close was never supposed to be an option; that's why they'd broken up in the first place. That's why Kuroo broke up with him in October, because he was moving away for college and he couldn't be with Kenma like the setter needed. Sure, it had been hard. It was still hard, but it was bearable now that he was here. He was here, and he was staying.


End file.
